non-conformist thoughts
by only1left22
Summary: sometimes it's hard to be Pete especially when everyone else knows something you don't.
1. why can't i answer

Non-conformists thoughts

p.o.v. Pete

I sat behind South Park Middle/High with Henrietta, Michael, and Firkle. Fucking sleet was raining from the sky and it was beginning to thunder. We huddled on the stairs under the roof's overhang. I stared at my own reflection in a pool of melted snow, my hair had faded to a light peach; I needed to re-dye it but last time I did it turned out bright pink, so I'd decided wait till Henrietta finally lost it and did it for me .

The bell rang; Michael took a long drag from his cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground. Henrietta took an even longer drag of hers from its holder, but as we all got up Henrietta glared at us and twitched. "I can't fucking take this shit anymore! I am not going back in there with those fucking conformist Justin, and Brittany wannabes," she bemoaned.

Michael sighed, "I'm sure we could just stay here; it's the last block and its Friday, even the conformist teachers wanna get out."

Henrietta twitched more violently. "I am not staying here, It is fucking raining demon-jiz," she said in an angry monotone voice heading for the parking lot, and soon we were all piling into Henrietta's mom's car.

She drove with reckless abandon like she was mad at the road. I seriously thought we had died five times by the time we got to her house. When we walked in, Henrietta's mom was nowhere to be seen which meant we had the whole house to ourselves-seeing that her father had walked out of the house many years ago to chase "job opportunities" elsewhere and soon after he disappeared from their lives all together. And Bradley, Bradley just plain disappeared like a fucking magician and is rarely heard from anymore.

We ran upstairs, remembering to wipe our feet after we had walked up them but before we entered her room, and took our usual places. Michael sat unusually close to me, muttering about how cold it was. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my cigarette pack only to find it empty. I looked up at Michael pleadingly attempting to bum a cigarette off of him. He politely obliged, taking one out and shoving it in my mouth. I reached for my lighter but before I could light it Michael leaned in and light it off the one in his mouth. I blushed slightly, his face being so fucking close to mine. Henrietta chuckled, and when I looked up to give her a death glare I saw she was smirking with a looking of knowing. Of what she knew, I knew not.

"Oh Pete you look so enthusiastic, I think you should be the first one to read a poem," she grinned knowing, I couldn't refuse.

So I opened to a random page in my black composition book, and began to read.

"_**In my shattered soul**_

_**Lies a loneliness un-told,**_

_**Pain of their happiness's recompense.**_

_**A heart wilted**_

_**Which beat nevermore.**_

_**Conformists' pleasures**_

_**Were hated measures.**_

_**Then there was HE**_

_**Reviving my deadened chest,**_

_**Coloring the flesh of face,**_

_**Throbs stung my core.**_

_**Never asked, never wanted,**_

_**Die again heart, die again . . ."**_

After I finished Firkle looked at me, "Deep man. It was like I could feel your pain."

Michael shifted closer to me and sighed, "Totally non-conformist."

Henrietta said, "Yeah," and walked out of the room. Several minutes later she came running up the stairs and burst into the room giving a death glare. "I'm out of fucking coffee! Get your lazy asses up and into the car, we are getting coffee, or I am scooping your eyes out with a rusty spoon!" she said.

We all got up and rushed off to the car. Firkle rushed up to the front seat and climbed in, much to Michael's dismay. He squashed into the back of the car with me. Henrietta got in and turned the car on, turning the heat up full blast seeing as it was much too cold; I was able to see my own fucking breath. Michael scooted close to me, slightly shivering. Henrietta began to pull out of the driveway in a way I was sure was highly illegal.

My phone buzzed the alarm I set yesterday to remind me to go to Henrietta's at this time, but instead reminding me it was new and I needed to get contact photos for my friends. Seeing as Michel was the only one I could get an actual photo of, I turned my phone on camera and took one. Unfortunately he noticed and snatched the phone from my hands. He deleted the photo and went to the voice recorder. He hit record. "Death and despair," his custom ringtone, he hit save. He threw my phone at me before snatching it back immediately. "You don't need a picture with that, now do you?" he said, putting an appointment in my calendar. "You probably forgot my stupid conformist dad and his fascist wife are making me do a piano recital tomorrow, and you're coming," he demanded, tossing my phone back again.

I waited until he wasn't looking and took another photo, shoving my phone in my pocket before he could react. Henrietta smirked and gave us that knowing look again through the review mirror, which was a bad idea because the fucking car began to slide before she got it back under control. We got to the store a few minutes later and when we got out I made sure to flip her off, but she just grinned. She marched us into the store and grabbed a basket. When we got to the coffee aisle she filled the basked with three different bagged kinds and five different cans.

Then un-expectantly she ran off to the hair dye aisle and grabbed a box of bright red dye. She scoffed and glared at me, "I can't stand hanging out with you with peach hair. If you're not going to fix it, I will." My goal had been accomplished, she finally lost it.

Firkle snickered, "Yeah you look like a freaking Nazi-conformist-cheerleader, not to mention a girl."

I flipped him off immediately. Michael laughed. When we got to the checkout counter, Michael took a hardbacks mocha frappe out of the fridge and handed Henrietta a five dollar bill. Firkle did the same. Firkle once again stole the front seat away from Michael, when we went back out to the car, leaving him to scoot in the back with me. If he chose to voice his objection, Henrietta would chew him out over it. As soon as he was settled, I stole his coffee and took a few sips. He gave me his sarcastic hurt look when I handed it back.

When we got back to Henrietta's, her mom still wasn't home so we proceeded to fight over which type of coffee to make. Of course I had no real opinion and chose to stay quiet and ignore their fucking annoying bickering. Michael sat silently waiting for the right time to speak while Henrietta viciously waved around a bag of coffee and Firkle angrily pointed at another, both screaming. Michael breathed in, finally choosing to speak.

"Why don't we just use both, you know, combine them. We do it all the time anyway, right Pete?" he said, expecting my agreement. He looked at me intensely his lids half closed and his expression as close to a smile as it could get. My heart ached as though I was having a heart attack, my face blushed, and Henrietta and Firkle both smirked, the same look on their faces. I would have flipped them off, but Michael was still watching me expectantly.

"Your fucking screaming is annoying, just listen to Michael, he's right anyway," I groaned. Both of them got a defeated look on their faces, but didn't protest.

Henrietta then began to make the coffee. When she finished and turned the pot on she grabbed the box of dye and pointed at me. "You, bathroom, now. I can't take it any longer." As we walked into the bathroom I could hear Firkle snickering. Henrietta turned on the vents and closed the door as I sat down on the side of the tub. She began to mix the dye and turned to me, "So… Who was that poem about? And what's between you and Michael?" She spoke in her usual monotone voice but was actually more curious then she let on.

But for once I didn't know what to say. I didn't know who the poem was about and I had no idea what she meant by what was between me and Michael.


	2. strange warnings

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, the characters, or any of the ideas associated with it.

Authors note: I'd like to thank all the people who have read this so far, and my friend bunny who so lovingly edits for me and collaborated on the poems with me (by collaborate I mean did most of the work for the poem). I'd like to state that this story will end up being about 10 or more chapter I've already about 6 chapters. Lastly I'd like to apologies that it takes so long to update due to editing take much longer then anticipated.

Henrietta looked at me and rolled her eyes before she began to apply dye to my head. "Come on, you moron, spit it out," she prodded.

I sighed and rolled my eyes back at her, "It was a poem, it was random I just wrote it. And what do you mean what's between me and Michael? We're just the same as usual, you know me and Michael are just plain old fucking me and Michael."

She rolled her eyes and coughed, "You're fucking ignorant as always." Her words went right past me; I had no freaking idea what the hell she could possibly be talking about. Due to the absence of a response from me, she huffed and began to smother the peach portions of my hair, avoiding the black. When she was finally satisfied with what she had done she turned off the vent and marched me off to the kitchen where Firkle and Michael sat watching the coffee maker slowly drip coffee into the pot. Henrietta pulled at Firkle's shirt, "Hey you, do you think I missed a spot or got it somewhere I shouldn't have?"

Firkle looked up at me momentarily then returned his attention to the coffee maker. "Nope I can't see any."

Henrietta looked at him disapprovingly. "Uugghh that's some great help Firkle. Michael, please, for Cthulhus sake, check Pete's hair."

Michael breathed out deeply as he slowly stood and walked over to me. He towered over me, so he had to lean quite a bit to check my hair. After about four fucking minutes he felt satisfied he had checked every part. He looked over at Henrietta and breathed in sharply, "No, you didn't miss any spots, or get any anywhere you weren't supposed to. Well, unless you're counting his neck which I know you're not." He chuckled to himself, probably fucking wondering how the hell she got dye on my neck since she was only dying the top of my head.

Henrietta sat me in the chair next to Michael and began to fiddle in the cabinet for coffee mugs, she found four of assorted colors: black, dark purple, dark red, and light pink. She filled them all, and handed Firkle the dark purple, Michael the dark red, and me the light pink. Firkle laughed as he sipped his coffee. "You know Pete, light pink _really_ suits you. It totally brings out your feminine side." Michael nearly took a spit take at Frikle's words. Henrietta rolled her eyes and smirked. We had been sitting there for about twenty minutes talking about different bands and doing nothing really important.

When Henrietta took a long drink of her coffee, and then looked at me, "Go rinse your hair out in the shower, then shampoo and condition it. Got it?"

I stood and began to walk to the bathroom. "Yep, I got it." I turned the shower and vents on, made sure the water wouldn't freeze or burn me, stripped, and got in. I stood in the water stream for a moment, relishing the warmth of it, before I began to run my hands through my hair, the water looked like blood when the dye first began to stream out of it, but gradually ran clear. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of white grapefruit and mint. I lathered my hair, rinsed and repeated. Seeing as Henrietta managed to get die on my neck and back I took the elastic off my wrist and put up my now silky hair. Henrietta's body wash smelled of white clay, pink jasmine, and vanilla. I covered my whole body and scrubbed my neck and upper back to make sure I got the dye off completely. When it was rinsed off, I shut off the water and exited the shower. I grabbed a towel from the cabinet and wrapped it around me. I grabbed Henrietta's face wash and scrubbed my faced making sure to get rid of any dye she might have accidently gotten on it. My face was finally clear, the pock marks gone, and I was not fucking going to deal with that again, and dye sure as hell was not going to be the cause. After I dried myself and got dressed, I exited the bathroom smelling like a girl.

I slid back into my chair and took a sip from my coffee, which was now room temperature. Michael leaned over and sniffed my neck, then my hair. I blushed, turning to him to glare and scoff. He looked a little disappointed. "Michael what are you doing?" I whined.

He grinned, "I was smelling you. You smell like grapefruit, vanilla and jade. **I like it**."

I flipped him off. We all finished our coffee and walked up to Henrietta's room. Once again we sat in our usual spots. Michael scooted closer to me. Henrietta snapped her fingers to grab our attention, "Now then boys, lets continue what we were doing earlier. I shall read my newest poem and then. . . Michael shall read one." She "smiled_" _like a Cheshire cat, opened her composition book, and began to read:

_**Ignorance and frustration,**_

_**Irritation of an outsider bidden to lighten the darkness**_

_**Because they see not the truth**_

_**Though it's clear as cloudless heavens**_

_**The two are meant to be.**_

_**Alien states befuddle black minds **_

_**Broken souls yearn to heal **_

_**But stand still due to fear,**_

_**They reach for the other**_

_**But fingers retract**_

_**Due to ignorance rooted deep in the dead heart**_

_**Because reality does not strike it.**_

_**Time wanes the outsider's patience,**_

_**Something must change**_

Henrietta finished reading and Firkle looked at her satisfiedly. "I know exactly what you mean. It is fucking irritating." Michael glared at her intensely. I shifted forward and Michael followed suit.

Henrietta cleared her throat. "Michael aren't you going to read a poem now?" she said snaredly.

"I forgot my composition book at home."

Henrietta took out a new cigarette and placed it in her holder before lighting it. She took a long drag and exhaled. "I forgive you, but tomorrow you're reading one."

Firkle suddenly began to stir, looking out the window. He stood and began to walk to the door. "I have to go see you guys tomorrow." He left and a few seconds later the door slammed. Henrietta rushed over to the window and peered out, of we course followed her.

Outside stood a fucking conformist: a Canadian about Firkle's age with black hair and dark eyes. He was pale and stood slightly taller than Firkle. He wore a creepy lilac sweater and pale jeans. Henrietta grimaced, obviously upset. I sighed, thinking of a lie to calm her down, but Michael beat me to the punch, "Firkle said he had to do a project with a partner the other day. That's probably why he's meeting up with that fucking conformist."

Henrietta was still upset, but Michael's statement calmed her down a little. I decide it was a good time to take my leave. "Hey guys, it's getting late and I have to be getting home, so I think I'm going to leave."

They both looked at me. "Yeah, I think I'm going to leave with Pete, if you don't mind," Michael stated plainly.

"Well then feel free to go," Henrietta said, impishly "smiling" at Michael's statement. We bid our farewells to Henrietta and left. As we stepped outside, the cold hit us like a brick wall. My house was several blocks from Henrietta's, but I didn't mind walking in the cold. As me and Michael walked we talked about nothing, small unimportant things, his mind obviously preoccupied in deep thought about the next day ahead.

As we approached Michael's house I slowed but he continued to walk, "What are you doing we're at your house, you fucking space cadet."

Michael stopped, took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag before breathing out the smoke that mixed with the fog from his warm breath. "I'm walking you home, you freaking idiot."

"No you're not," I argued.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and shoved it in my own. "Obviously I am, now keep walking." I shut up and decided it wasn't worth arguing with Michael; I never won when I did.

As we approached my house, Michael walked me to the door. "Hey you want to come in for a minute? It's fucking freezing out and you're going to die of the cold if you don't."

Michael just smirked at my offer, "No, I don't, I have to get home myself, you know."

"You sure? I don't care if my parents mind."

Michael laughed and began to walk away. "I'd rather not 'Due to ignorance rooted deep in the dead heart, because reality does not strike it,'" he said, quoting Henrietta's poem as he walked away, leaving me baffled and searching for what he fucking meant.

**. . .**

At about twelve at night, my phone began to ring 'death and despair.' I picked it up and Michele's voice came in, clear and commanding. "Hello Pete," he said, long and drawn out.

"Hello Michael. What do you want? And why the hell are you calling me so late?" I said dozily.

"I called because I couldn't stop thinking about you. You know I'm picking you up tomorrow at six in the morning right?" Everything was silent for a moment.

"Wait! What!? **You're** picking me up? And at six?"

"That shouldn't be an issue, I mean, I do have a car and we need to get there at seven so we have to leave at six."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's an hour car ride? Why are you driving? Aren't Henrietta and Firkle coming?"

"Obviously it's an hour if we leave at six and get there at seven, genius. And they're coming, but they will be late because they both have something to do, and since you don't, you are coming with me. No arguing allowed."

"Fine, I get it. I'll go, but don't push it. Now Michael, it's late and I'm tired. I do ever so love the sound of your voice, but I have to get up early to see you tomorrow, so please Michael, just say goodnight," I could hear him laughing from the other end of the phone.

"Yes, I see your point Pete. I'd rather spend more time talking with you, but it is indeed late. You'll just have to spend more time with my beautiful face tomorrow than you planned. Goodnight Pete and dream well." He hung up and instantly the dial tones come on. I hung up and went to sleep.

That night the ghost of Edger Allen Poe visited me in my dreams, reaping lines from the poems over and over again all night: _** Because they see not the truth, Though it's clear as cloudless heavens, The two are meant to be. They reach for each other, But fingers retract, Due to ignorance rooted deep in the dead heart, Because reality does not strike it. Something must change.**_


	3. why i played it?

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, the character, or idea's associated with it. I alos do not own the music mentioned.

The next day I woke up at five thirty to the alarm Michael had set on my phone. I shut it off and got out of bed to take a shower. When I got to the bathroom, I found that my mom had replaced the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash with new ones that smelled like a fucking girl. The body wash was fucking sparkly. I mean what the hell? And it smelled like "Frosted sugar plum," whatever the hell that is. And the conditioner and shampoo smelled of vanilla and blackberries. I'd certainly hear Michael's snared comments about this again.

After I showered, I walked to my room and got dressed—pulling on a black undershirt, black jeans, and my purple, buckled, Winkle-Picker shoes. As I grabbed my dark red and black dress shirt, Michael walked in. He grabbed my bolo tie off my bureau, walked over to me and started to unbutton my buttons only to button them again; apparently somewhere along the line I had messed up. He faceted the bolo tie around my neck and looked closely at my eyes. "Pete, you're not leaving the house looking like this. Where is your eyeliner?" Michael asked, turning my head back and forth.

"It's in the bathroom. Why?"

Michael let go of my face and walked into the bathroom. I heard the water running and the cabinet open, and then he remerged in front of me. He scrubbed around my eyes with a face cloth and applied eyeliner to my eyes without saying a word. After he was done, he put the things back in the bathroom and looked me over once more. "You're good now. Come on then, we have to get going."

Michael ushered me out of the house, down the stairs, and into his car; Michael's car had benched seats which I didn't much care for. As I slid into the car, Michael was already sitting and turning it on. I attempted to sit next to window, but Michael grabbed my arm and fucking dragged me across the seat to right next to him and buckled me in. "Michael what the hell? I know how to buckle myself in; I know how to do things on my own; I'm not a fucking child, stop it," I moaned.

He looked at me and glared. "Sorry I freaking care about you." He began to drive slowly.

I looked at him, "Michael, I didn't mean it that way. Come on Michael, I'm just tired, it's early and I haven't had any coffee or even a cigarette, yet. Please forgive me."

Michael, being a much better driver than Henrietta, had no problem doing what he did next: he reached into his coat pocket and handed me his cigarette packet, then he leaned over and sniffed me and my hair. "You smell so sweet, like candy. I like it much better than yesterday. **I like it **_**very**_** much**," he chuckled.

I would have flipped him off, but he did just hand me his cigarette pack, so instead I chose to be grateful and light one. I slipped the pack back in his pocket and took a long drag from the cigarette before I handed it to him. The rest of the ride was vaguely quiet, Michael still had something on his mind, and it was taxing him greatly.

When we finally arrived inside the building, there were a few people I greatly despised seeing: Mike Murkowski, Leopold "butters" Stotch, Kenny McCormick, and fucking Eric Cartman. I'm glad Stan the poser, and Kyle weren't here. Mike, who was not with the others, saw us and began to walk over. This upset Michael, him not at all liking Mike, and I personally hated the little bitchy vamp kid.

Michael looked over at an older lady and she waved him over; she's the women who set up the fucking recital. Michael was obviously relieved for the way to avoid Mike, despite the fact that he had to go deal with the old fucking conformist teacher. Mike stopped in front of me and looked me up and down. "So…Pete, what are you two doing here…together?" he asked suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes. "Michael's parents are making him play the Moonlight sonnet for tonight's recital," I said.

He leaned in close to me, "Oh, I didn't know he could play, but he mustn't be that good if he's only playing that."

I couldn't help but chuckle at this, he obviously did not know how talented Michael was if he thought his skill stopped at that, but Mike thought I was chuckling in amusement. He moved closer to me and looked deep in my eyes. "So you wanna ditch him and spend some time with me instead?"

I rolled my eyes. "What are you saying, like seriously, what? That almost sounded like a pick-up line."

Mike breathed in deeply, and then exhaled, "Pete, you're ever so naive. It was a pick-up line. Now are you going to come with me or not?" he asked.

I scoffed at him. "I think not," I said, walking away.

Mike stood there for a second then called after me. "Just watch, one day you'll be changing your mind."

I walked past Kenny, and then Butters, but as I went to walk past fat-ass Cartman, he tripped me. I landed wrong and twisted my ankle and he burst out in obnoxious laughter. "Look, the pussy-ass Goth hurt himself!" he mocked through laughs. Butters mouthed the word sorry in my direction. I got up and managed to make my way off in another direction.

In a moment I was joined again by Michael. "Nazi conformist. Is your ankle ok?" he asked.

"I guess its fine; I'll have to wrap it later, but it's cool for now," I said. As I finished, Henrietta and Firkle arrived.

Henrietta looked at Michael. "It's about time for you to start doing things Michael. Go on get going. Why aren't you gone yet?" she half asked, half told.

"Well you see, that fat Nazi tripped Pete and hurt his ankle, so I came to check on him. Got a problem with that?" Michael said apathetically. Henrietta grinned at him and he stalked way. Firkle was already several steps ahead of us and had found seats. We joined him, and several minutes later the recital started.

We sat through several boring acts before Michael was up. When he began to play we instantly noticed it was not Beethoven's Moonlight sonnet. I recognized it after a second; it was La Fragile Mort by Proyecto Oniric. We heard it on the internet while searching for gothic piano music; I commented how I liked it, but Michael could never find sheet music for it. He must have listened to it enough times to figure out how to play it.

The looks on the faces of his conformist teacher and fascist step-mother when they heard it instead of what he was supposed to play were priceless. When Michael finished, he found us and ushered us out to his car. Henrietta and Firkle were brought here by her mother so they got in Michael's car with us. As we got in, Henrietta suddenly started in, "So Michal, why'd you play that song?" she asked an edge to her voice.

Michael's eyes suddenly shifted to her as he went to buckle me in, "No reason, really, I just happen to like that song." He shifted to start the car.

Henrietta sighed. "You're a fucking liar. By the by, I think Pete knows how to buckle himself in."

Michael sighed and started the car. "You're also a liar, I thought you we're going to be late?"

"I'll admit to my lie, though. I just didn't want to be any earlier than I had to be, and you had to be fifteen minutes early. Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes, and I used it wisely. I admitted my lie, now you admit yours. Or are you too freaking scared to?" she prodded.

Michael looked at her through the rearview mirror and flipped her off. "If we must play this game, then so be it. I lied, I didn't play it because I liked it; I played it because Pete liked it. You happy now?" he sighed heavily.

As Michael drove back to town, Henrietta and Firkle took a nap and I fiddled with the radio, knowing Michael wasn't in the mood to talk. As Michael parked the car in the parking lot of Benny's, I began to wake Henrietta and Firkle. We sat at the booth closest to the door and soon a waitress came to serve us coffee.

Henrietta yawned, still half asleep, "So Michael, you said you'd read your poem today, so let's finally hear it."

Michael groaned, pulling his journal out of his pocket. He looked at me and opened to a marked page:

_**He looks with ignorance**_

_**A wall keeping me out**_

_**His smile, it pains me**_

_**Acts as though he knows, tempting, but oblivious.**_

_**He could heal my soul **_

_**Make me complete**_

_**But he doesn't know.**_

_**Fear of action coincides frustration,**_

_**Moves needed aren't made**_

_**Words needed aren't said.**_

_**Time moves, progress stands **_

_**Longing and Love mean pain**_

_**Romantic feelings kill, **_

_**The fear to act causes my unavoidable death.**_

As Michael finished reading I realized he had been looking at me the entire fucking time, and Henrietta and Firkle had the biggest grins on their faces, but I didn't understand what any of them were thinking. So I just fucking sat there, pouring sugar into my coffee, feeling that everyone else at the table knew something I didn't.


	4. is change coming?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Authors note: I give credit to my friend bunny for editing this and the previous chapter and I'd like to thank you for reading it.

I put my composition book away, and was about to go to bed when Michael called. "Hey Pete," he said, sighing.

"Hey Michael. Why are you calling me so late again?" I asked.

"Well Henrietta and Firkle need to get some things tomorrow so when they figure out what they're doing I'll call you. So there's no need to stop at my house tomorrow. Sorry I had to change our plans, but you know how Henrietta and Firkle can get after a while," Michael explained.

I sighed, "We had those plans made for over three weeks, but I guess we can reschedule…"

"Listen Pete, I'm really sorry. I already said that, I'll find a way to make it up to you tomorrow, I promise," Michael said brooding.

"Don't worry about it Michael. Just, just make sure to call me after you figure out what we're doing."

"Yeah, I will. Well, goodnight, sleep tight, and don't let your nightmares bite," he said and hung up. I held the phone for a few minutes before finally putting it down. I went to sleep, not looking forward to the next day.

…

I woke up the next day and sat around in my bed for a while before I decided to write some poetry, but when I went to reach for my poetry book it was gone. I knew instantly who had taken it. "**EVANGELINE! Get the hell in here!**" I screamed at the top of my lungs several times until she finally came.

"Oh, baby cousin, why have you called for me?" she asked.

I growled, "You know why."

Her expression grew into an impish smile, a real smile like I hadn't seen in forever. "Well you know what I have, and I know how important to you it is, so let me tell you what is going to happen. You're going to come with me on a double date. Since I'm visiting here that means none of my friends are here, and if you do a good job and don't get found out then you'll get your stupid diary thingy back."

I inhaled sharply, "You bitch, I can't believe you. Why the hell would I do something as demeaning as that? I won't do it. Find a real damn girl to go with you."

Her smile grew grim as the words left my mouth. "Oh, no, no, no, I've already looked for someone else, and since you're my last option, if you don't go I'll burn it. End of story. You're coming with me, now."

She began to drag me off but I slipped my arm from her grip. "You can't fucking do this to me! I'm a boy!" I yelled.

She took this chance to grab my arm again and drag me off, "You may be a boy, but, you see, you're a small weak boy. And since you're small and weak, I can exploit your weakness. And remember, I'll burn your stupid book," she threatened.

"Fine, I'll help you. Just, just don't burn it," I pleaded. The book itself was not important, but something inside of it was; it was so important that I would do anything to make sure nothing happened to it.

She sat me down in front of her vanity and pulled my hair away from my face. She applied fucking makeup in such a way that I thought I would look like a clown, but … I didn't. In fact it made me look like a damn girl. Next she pulled my hair into a high pony tail and brushed my bangs to the side of my face. I thought my hair would look dumb up, but it was just long enough to make a decent pony tail, so I could get away with it. She dressed me in a dark purple baby-doll shirt, black lace skirt, a necklace with a red pendent, replacing my bolo tie, and she let me wear my normal shoes. After she was done, she surveyed her handy work. "Well, I hoped you'd make at least a decent girl, but you seem to have far surpassed my expectations. Great, now then, try the best you can to act like a girl. We are leaving now; don't get your coat, we're taking my car."

…

As we entered the mall two tall blond boys standing next to the fountain began to wave at Evangeline; she waved back. Evangeline walked up to the taller of the two boys and began to speak, "Hey Trace, Alex, I brought my baby cousin…um…Pixie." She shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a name.

The shorter boy, Alex, stepped in front of me and held out his hand. "I'm Alex; it's nice to meet you Pixie. I hope we can become good friends," he said, shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you too, Alex. Yes, indeed, it would be quite splendid if we could become friends," I said, trying my hardest to sound like a girl.

We walked around the mall for about an hour, listening to the mindless babble between Evangeline and Trace. Alex spent most of the time babbling about this and that, trying hopelessly to impress me. After another half hour my phone rang with Michael's ringtone and I swallowed hard, remembering what he said yesterday. "Um, excuse me Alex; I need to take this call. I'm really sorry; can you just wait a sec?" Alex smiled at me and nodded.

I opened my phone and instantly Michael began to speak, "Hey Pete; Henrietta and Firkle dragged me to the mall. I was wondering if you could meet us there. If you can't, that's cool, though," his speech more awkward than usual.

I sighed. "I'm really sorry Michael, you know I'd love to, but Evangeline has me doing something for her now. Is it alright if I call you later when I'm free?"

I heard bickering in the background. "Yeah, that's ok Pete. I'll catch you later then," he said, obviously disappointed. I hung up my phone and put it away again.

Alex sighed and looked at the ground. "So that was probably your boyfriend, right? I'm sorry, I was hitting on you."

I chuckled under my breath without thinking; Evangeline glared at me. "I'm sorry Alex; that was not my boyfriend. That was just my friend. Really."

Alex sighed again, "You don't have to lie to me to save my feelings. I really do hope we can keep in contact and become close friends. Here's my number. So, this is a mall with lots of single girls, I'm going to go check that out. Goodbye," Alex said, walking away. Now, left alone with Trace and Evangeline, I looked at her pleadingly. She rolled her eyes and waved me off.

I left as fast as I could, heading for the one place in the mall I thought I would never run into Michael and the others, but on my way I ran into someone else who was very undesirable: Mike Murkowski. Mike stepped in my path and proceeded to spew nonsense from his douchey vampire mouth, "Hey there girly, I've never seen you before. What's your name? Ever thought of being a vampire? Or at least going on a date with one?"

I laughed at the stupidity of his suggestion. "My name's Pixie and I disdain, abhor, loathe, and hate fucking vampires. So go jump on a wooden stake, Mike," I said accidently, forgetting I didn't know his name.

He looked at me quizzically and I rushed off as fast as I could in the direction of the Gap. As I was about to enter the Gap, a hand grabbed my shoulder and stopped me. Fearing it was Mike, I froze. The person grabbing my shoulder turned me to face them and, to my surprise, it was Michael. He held on to me and took out his phone. He only pressed two buttons and several seconds later my phone went off with his unmistakable ringtone. He grinned and began to look me up and down. "So, Pete, why the hell are you dressed like a girl? New hobby or something?"

I breathed out hard and sharp. "I told you, I was doing something for Evangeline. I had to help her on a date or she was going to burn something of mine, which I couldn't let happen, so here I am," I explained.

Firkle joined Michael in looking me up and down and began to chuckle. "Pete, Pete, Pete, I thought the peach hair made you feminine looking, but this takes the fucking cake. Are you sure you're not a real girl?"

I gave him a death glare, "Get stuffed Firkle."

Henrietta snickered at this. "Well Pete, as long as you're here and no longer bound by the demon known as Evangeline, why don't you walk around with us for a while? We're going to F.Y.I., and by "why don't you," I mean you're coming." At that, Henrietta turned around and she and Firkle began to lead the way across the mall. Michael let go of my shoulder and grabbed my hand dragging me along with him.

"Hey Michael, let go of my hand. I get it, I'm fucking coming," I whined, uncomfortable with the contact.

Michael peered down at me, his eyes clear and sharp, lids half closed. "No, you don't fucking get it, do you want some random guy to hit on you like Mike did earlier? Yes I saw that. It's best to appear you have a boyfriend if you don't want that to happen again… If you're a girl we can't go calling you Pete so what the hell do we call you?"

My face flushed at the mention of my earlier encounter, but reddened further at the mention of Michael pretending to be my boyfriend, giving me an uncomfortable feeling. My heart sunk, knowing what Firkle would do when I gave them the name Evangeline bestowed upon me with earlier, "Pixie… Evangeline decided my name would be Pixie…"

Firkle and Henrietta stopped, simultaneously turning around to grin at me. "Pixie?… How perfectly suited to you that is," Firkle chuckled. I ignored him.

We continued on to F.Y.I. and when we got there Henrietta picked out two Skinny Puppy CDs and Firkle bought a movie for us all to watch together at a later date. While they were checking out, Michael and I waited outside the store. As we stood there, waiting, the second most unfortunate person walked by: Alex. He stopped in front of us and looked Michael over. "So Pixie, I guess this is your boyfriend, right?"

Before I could answer, Michael did. "Do you have some busyness with my Pixie? You know, isn't it overly obvious to you who I am?" he said, almost pretentiously.

Alex looked taken back. "Oh, I'm sorry; I should have introduced myself and not have ignored you; that was rude of me. It is quite obvious, but I was just making sure before I jumped to a conclusion." He frowned.

I sighed, if only to myself. "Alex, this is my… this is Michael. Michael this is Alex. I understand that it is ever so rude of me to be saying this, but Alex could you please go? We were having a very important conversation right before you came and I think it's exceedingly important for Michael and I to continue it."

Michael looked down at me with a hurt look I couldn't grasp. Alex looked at Michael's hurt expression and seemed to be able to understand what I could not. "Why yes, I seem to understand what you're talking about now. I'll get in touch with the two of you later then," he said, instantly taking his leave as the final word left his mouth.

Michael's expression never left his face, and his face never looked away from mine. "Michael, what's the matter? I don't get what I did." From behind me came Firkle's voice, who had evidently been standing there for quite some time,

"_**You never understand, **_

_**You've never really seen,**_

_**You've built a wall around your heart and your mind,**_

_**You've built it so thick **_

_**You don't see what's before your very eyes:**_

_**Someone standing outside your wall**_

_**Repeatedly trying to tear it down.**_

_**When he removes one brick **_

_**You replace it just as fast,**_

_**But still he stands**_

_**Waiting**_

_**Waiting for the day you forget to rebuild**_

_**Waiting to show you what's so palpable**_

_**Waiting for his feelings to reach you."**_

This shocked me, Firkle, who never read poetry, saying something so poetic. I wanted to taunt him but I kept my mouth shut feeling the tense atmosphere.

Henrietta walked over to me and clicked her tongue. "Let's go get smoothies, your brain needs some rest from all that task some thinking you're doing before you burn it out" she joked, beginning to walk toward the food court.

Michael held me still for a moment and whispered in my ear, "You're blind; so very, very blind."


	5. It's just the beginning?

I sat in the car with Evangeline, still mad as fucking hell at her; she had no fucking idea what kind of abuse I have and would suffer because of her. She began speaking, finally uncomfortable with the silence, "I'm sorry. If you had just told me you had a boyfriend I wouldn't have made you come with me."

I let out a high pitch squeak not expecting her words to be what they were. "Are you kidding me? Michael is _**not**_ my fucking boyfriend! He's just my best-friend."

She laughed at that. "That's absurd. Just _admit it_**,** he's your _**boyfriend**_. I mean, the way he looks at you, how he treats you, the way he acts around you, it's so obvious **he loves you." **

Now it was my turn to laugh at her words. "Pardon me, but I think I know Michael a little better than you, and he most defiantly does _**not**_ love me in that way."

Her head snapped away from the road and her eyes looked at me filled with shock. "Are you really that dumb? How can you not see it? Do you just refuse to see it? There's no way anyone can be this unmindful!"

"I'm not being fucking unmindful; I'm just not reading shit into shit that's not there. If Michael loved me, don't you think he would have told me?" I asked rhetorically.

"**NO**. No, I don't think he would have told you. Have you ever thought of the possibility that maybe he's waiting for you to notice on your own? Or maybe he's just scared that if he told you, you wouldn't accept him?"

Her words involuntarily made me mad and I snapped at her without thinking, "No, that's not possible! Michael would never be afraid of anything as stupid as that! And someone like him would never like someone as insignificant as me!" I yelled without meaning to.

She sighed, "I see why you've never noticed now. You hold him on a pedestal and can't believe that someone 'as high standing as him' would ever do something you find to be beneath them; you think of him as amazing and yourself as not so much, so you don't believe it would be befitting of him. I just have to say, just ask him; you have nothing to lose. I guarantee he likes you, and you like him, so there's no real problem, is there?"

Her words made me freeze. "I don't fucking like him."

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me, Pete; if you didn't like him, then why do you have that picture of him in your _diary_?"

_**Why do I have that picture of him? Do I like him? Could, could he really like me? **_I sat in silence, thinking to myself as her words struck me, and I realized everything she said was true.

**. . .**

When we got home she returned my composition book and I got changed, washed my face, and collapsed on my bed. After a while I feel asleep, only to be awaken by Michael calling me. "Hey Pete, what are you doing right now?"

I sighed as his voice rang through my half-conscious mind. "Not even going to let me say hello? Gosh, we're brash today. I'm doing nothing right now, why? What do you want?"

"Gosh, we're feeling aggravated today, aren't we? I just wanted to know if you wanted to go get coffee with me at the village inn."

"With just you? Why, are Henrietta and Firkle preoccupied or something?"

"Oh I see, I can't just want to spend some alone time with my best friend every now and then?"

"Michael, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know, and yes they are busy. Firkle is hanging out with that Canadian again and Henrietta found out, so she is steamed and I don't want to get in the line of her fury."

"I'll hang out with you Michael. So are you going to come pick me up or should I meet you there? I don't mind walking."

"Hell, don't sound so reluctant Pete. And I'm sorry, but can you meet me there? I need to do something before I get there."

"Yep, I understand. See you later then."

"Can't wait to see you either, Pete." Michael hung up and the conversation ended, so I put my coat on and began to walk to The Village Inn.

. . .

p.o.v. Michael

I dropped my phone on Henrietta's bed and closed my eyes, but still I could feel her expression grow into a grin. "So you're going to see Pete now. Alone. . . Are you finally going to tell him?"

I grabbed my earing and began flicking it back and forth between my fingers. "Why… why would I do a stupid thing like that?" I opened my eyes and saw the terrible glare she was giving me.

"Well, you see, if you don't tell him soon, I will."

I coughed at her sudden threat. "NO WAY!"

"I'm going to if you don't, it's getting fucking annoying. I mean, is he totally stupid or something? He must be blind and deaf if not. I mean, what's the point in not telling him? He **obviously** **won't reject** **you**. Are you just scared?"

"No way, I'm not fucking scared. I just don't see the point of it."

She laughed at that. "You idiot, you are scared! You're scared to tell him you love him because you fear he'll reject you. You moron! Like he would ever reject you. You better tell him or you'll regret it, you know." She picked her holder off the desk and took a long drag before blowing out smoke in my face.

I glared at her, "Is that a threat or something?"

She looked at me intensely and sighed, "If you want to take it as one, then it is. But, you know, I can see that even you will get fed up with his idiocy sooner or later, and if you're not careful you'll tell him in a way that you **will** regret."

"I see your point, but I'm not going to tell him." I rose from where I was sitting and began to walk out the door.

"Oh, you'll tell him. I know you, Michael, and I know you can't take him not being yours for much longer… because you're possessive and always have been."

"Well, maybe I will tell him and maybe I am, but it'll be a cold day in hell when you know me."

"You're right; you're too apathetic to let anyone know you." She took one last drag and blew the smoke at me as I walked out of her house.

. . .

p.o.v. pete

When I arrived at the Village Inn, I saw Michael already sitting at a booth, so I slid in and sat across from him. "Hey Michael, sorry I took so long."

He chuckled at my apology. "No problem, you look half frozen though," he said, reaching out his hand to feel my face. I flinched, remembering the conversation with Evangeline earlier. He retracted his hand quickly. "Is something wrong Pete?"

"No, nothing's wrong, it's just something stupid Evangeline said earlier; nothing to worry about," I explained.

Michael sighed, "Is it really nothing to worry about? Sure seems to have quite a grip on you. What did she say?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "It was really nothing, just something dumb. I haven't even thought of it, really," I lied.

"Pete, please don't lie to me."

I looked at Michael, no longer able to keep my thoughts from bothering me. "Michael, do you like anyone?"

Michael coughed. "Of course I do."

"Oh, I see; its Henrietta isn't it?"

Michael looked at me like I was crazy. "Like hell I do. Are you sick in the head?"

"Then you like me?" I asked without thinking.

Michael smirked, but I could tell something bothered him. "So that's what's bothering you? It's obvious, isn't it? I love you."

"I…. you… you can't love me. **You can't love me**. **You're lying**."

Michael's expression turned sour. "**Fuck you**. Yeah, I'm so defiantly fucking lying. Tell me, **if I was lying, would I do this?**" Michael stood and leaned over the table, putting his hands on my cheek and arm. He crushed his lips against mine, a rough first kiss. I attempted to struggle free and push him away, but he held me with enough force I couldn't pull away. After a second, I gave in and closed my eyes. Then he dragged his tooth along my bottom lip, the new sensation sending chills up my spine. He ran his tongue along the crease of my mouth and then pulled me ever closer while his lips moved against mine. He bit my bottom lip and pull away as it slipped from his teeth and finally released me to sit back down.

I wiped my mouth, breathing heavily. He leaned his face on his hand and looked at me smugly, his eyes half-lidded. If I wasn't pissed at him I probably would have thought of how calm he looked. My face was bright red and I knew it. I put my hands over my eyes and slowly slid down the bench. "What the hell; you fucking dumbass." I took my hands off my face and flipped him off before covering my face again.

He laughed at this. "What's wrong Pete? Still don't believe me? I can do it again, if you want."

I bit my lip to stop myself from yelling and I realized it tasted like Michael's black coffee and cigarettes. "Fucking jerk."

He snickered. "Stop complaining, you totally fucking enjoyed it." I couldn't argue with him. "So do you believe me now? And you know what will happen if you say 'no,' don't you?"

At his words I had a mini heart attack or, at least, I thought it was one. "Oh, don't you dare. I get it; I believe you; so just stay over there."

He laughed. "Gosh, Pete, you're jumpy, and all I ever did was tell you I loved you."

"Damn you, you idiot, that's not all you did and you know it."

"Yeah, I know." He sat down next to me and removed my hands from my eyes so that I saw a fucking wide-as-hell grin on his face. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Will you go out with me?"

My face turned red as the words left his mouth.

_**If words could convey my thoughts, I'd say them.**_

_**If I told you you're my most important person, **_

_**You wouldn't believe me?**_

_**Voicing my thoughts would not help you**_

_**Showing you what I mean cements the truth.**_

_**Will you run away?**_

_**Are you scared to be loved?**_

_**Will you stay?**_

_**They whisper of the truth, but I don't know,**_

_**I don't know if the truth they whisper is real,**_

_**If it is, can I be happy?**_

_**Please be true.**_

_**Please stay.**_

_**Please love me.**_

_**Never leave,**_

_**Never leave me;**_

_**That's all I'll ever ask.**_

Authors note: I'm giving credit to bunny for improving the kiss-scene because mine was terrible. I thank you for reading thus far, but don't worry this is only the begging.


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